


Now You Know What It Is To Want!

by maisymousebabey



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: AKA Paul, Choking - Mentions, F/M, Masturbation - Mentions, Uncomfortable Employees, it was more a writing exercise then anything but i liked how it turned out, this is basically just a rewrite of the scene but in paragraph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 14:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maisymousebabey/pseuds/maisymousebabey
Summary: Basically just a rewrite of the sceneEnjoy





	Now You Know What It Is To Want!

“Paul. Mr. Davidson wants to see you in his office.” 

Melissa’s voice, soft but affirmative broke through their conversation, snapping Paul out of his thoughts and the wide eyed stare he and Charlotte had been practically locked into as they muttered the seemingly cursed words from the obnoxious song Paul had to listen to on his way to work that very morning. 

Paul turned around, a realisation practically smacking him in his face as he watched Melissa walk off. “Oh shoot, I forgot to hand in my weekly reports yesterday. I’m gonna get it!” He broke off into a sprint, not paying attention to Charlotte’s still raised finger and shocked expression as he heard Ted laugh, his annoying ‘Ah, ho ho ho ho ho!’ fading as Paul made his way to his bosses’ office. 

\-- 

Melissa didn’t look up from her computer as Paul took hold of the office’s handle, turning it to let himself in. 

“Hey Mr. Davidson,” Paul walked in, seeing his boss sitting at his desk, newspaper held up in front of his face, across the front page of the Hatchetfield Gazette read ‘A METEOR HITS’. Though that didn’t matter much to Paul right now, the anxious feeling was settling in his stomach as he spoke. “I think I know why you called me in here today. My weekly reports were not turned in yesterday,” Without waiting for a response from his employer, he continued on. “Not because they’re not done. They are done. There’s a problem with the printer network, you see, you try to print something over here, it gets sent over there.” Paul let out an anxious laugh, praying to God that Mr. Davidson didn’t see through the complete bullshit he was saying. 

“I bet my report is sitting in someone else’s printer tray right now. You give me til’ the end of the day, I can find it.” He prayed internally, hoping that his boss would buy into the blatant lie. If he did, Paul would have to thank Bill for giving him the idea. 

Instead, Mr. Davidson remained silent, newspaper held over his face. 

Paul took the silence as an accusation, hurrying to reassure his boss. “Not do it. I-I-I wouldn’t just not do my statistical analysis.” 

He let out a nervous laugh, going to sit down on the chair opposite of Mr. Davidson’s desk. “That would really gum things up here in the office. And that’s the last thing I want.” Paul spoke with a false sense of confidence. 

Then Mr. Davidson lowered his newspaper, practically slamming the pages of foreboding articles and crosswords down on his desk. Paul flinched as he looked at the expression on his employer’s face. It was unsettling, to say the least. His eyes were wide, his mouth stretched out into an uncanny grin. 

“What do you want, Paul?” He sang, turning his head to stare directly into Paul’s eyes, grin getting somehow wider, making the employee shift, the anxious feeling in his gut worsening. 

“E-Excuse me?” Paul could feel his voice cracking as he pressed his back against the chair he was sat in. 

Mr. Davidson carried on. “Tell me what you desire to see. Your deepest intent, Paul.” He crossed one leg over the other, leaning forwards as he rested his chin in his hand. “What do ya see for this company?” 

He then stood up, continuing to sing as he gestured broadly, waving his left hand around as he sang. “I’m looking for someone with strong ambition. Someone to sell their specific vision, someone to share with precise precision their thoughts, cause I want you to want! To want.” Mr. Davidson lifted up his right leg, letting his foot rest on his desk chair before leaning his elbow on it. 

Paul was stunned. Before he could get a word in, his boss spoke. “So want to you want, Paul?” Paul watched as Mr. Davidson moved away from his chair, beginning to pace. A weird, smooth pacing, his arms swinging up and down as if he were some creature doing a mockery of human walking. “What’s that one concrete goal that motivates all your actions?”

Paul watched in confusion, eyebrows knitting as he responded. “I-I don’t think I have one of those..” 

“Well then, how is anyone supposed to sympathize with you, Paul?” Mr. Davidson put his hand on Paul’s shoulder, making him flinch. 

Quickly, Paul spoke up again, “I dunno, I want money or-” only to be cut off by his employer bursting back into song. 

“I want you to want, Paul!” Mr. Davidson put both hands on his shoulders, as if holding his employee from behind. Paul felt himself beginning to sweat, this was more than uncomfortable. “A man so vague just can’t be trusted! Something you pine for!” He crouched down, clenching a fist as he made eye contact with Paul. 

The eye contact made Paul cringe, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away. “Mr. Davidson?” His voice quivering. 

“Maybe someone who keeps you lusting!” Mr. Davidson pulled away, standing in the space between Paul’s chair and his own desk. Using his hands, he begins to shape out a being with way too many curves for it to be human as he kept singing. “I’m just a boss, I’m not an idea guy.” His hands touched the floor before he sprang back up, going to stand behind Paul again. “I hire you, Paul, to keep our stock high. But if you can’t pin that point that’s in the sky!” He held the high note in sky as Paul shuddered, trying not to squirm under his grip. 

Paul watched with Horror as he carried on, pulling away. “Then I want you to want!” He crouched back down, jaw shifting in a nearly inhumane manner, making Paul shift uncomfortably. “To want!” 

“Do you know what I want for myself?” Mr. Davidson continued on. 

“Okay?” 

“I’ve waited for so long, to tell somebody else!” He gestured back at Paul. “Carol,” Mr. Davidson spoke, his voice softening as he made his way back to his desk. “My wife, you’re my muse, my source of light.” He gently picked up a photograph of a woman, who Paul assumed was Carol. 

“Carol, my love,” He held the picture to his chest. “I want you to choke me out at night.” 

Paul’s eyes widened. Oh. Oh god no. “Uh huh?” 

“I want you to choke me,” Paul looked away, trying to avert his gaze from the way Mr. Davidson held his own hand up to his throat. 

“Seems like a private moment!” Paul cried out. 

“I want you to choke me,” Mr. Davidson continued on. 

“Like, who is this for?” 

“I want you to choke me, while I jerk off.” Mr. Davidson gently caressed the photo frame as he sang, as if he were singing about something romantic, rather than a crude fantasy in front of his clearly uncomfortable employee. “I want you to choke me while I jerk off!”

He pumped his fist in the air, clutching the photograph tight as he returned to behind his desk while calling out. “Melissa, get my wife on the phone for me!” 

Paul quickly stood up, discomfort displayed for all to see across his features. “Mr. Davidson, I think I should leave!” 

“No Paul! I want you to hear this, if you leave you’re fired!” 

Paul reluctantly sat back down, grimacing as Mr. Davidson picked up the phone. 

“Carol!” He cried out, smiling. Paul could only feel pity for the poor woman. 

“Yes, everything’s fine. I promise.” Mr. Davidson flashed Paul a thumbs up. “I just uh, wanted to tell you something,” He clicked his tongue twice, leaning his hand on the back of his desk chair. “I uh, Mmmm.” He grunted with a light thrust of his hips. “Heh heh heh heh heh heh…” He laughed nervously as his jaw shifted from side to side, making his teeth clack together. “I uh,” His expression suddenly fell, the seemingly ever present grin dropping to a sad, confused frown. “I forgot what I wanted to say…” Mr. Davidson choked out, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears. “Maybe someday I’ll remember… Goodbye.” He whispered as if he were saying goodbye to someone he knew he would never see again. Mr. Davidson put the phone back on it’s receiver, and Paul thought it might finally be over.  
“Paul! Now you know what it is to want!” Mr. Davidson burst back into song. 

“I wanna go home!” Paul blurted out, feeling overwhelmed, if not scared by the uncomfortable situation as Mr. Davidson approached him. 

“It consumes a man with the passion, to drive the primary plot. So take up yoga, or improv classes, volunteer at shelters, or Twitch to the masses! There’s gotta be something that’ll keep my hands off you! Off you!” 

He started to walk towards Paul, hands reaching for him. Paul quickly jumped out of his seat, stumbling back. “O-Oh hell no!” 

“Cause I want you to want!” Mr. Davidson sang as he stepped up onto Paul’s chair, not watching as his employee stumbled back against the door, hand fumbling for the doorknob. 

“Mr, Davidson, I’m going to get some coffee, do you want anything?!” Paul spoke quickly, trying to mask the quivering in his voice as he grabbed ahold of the handle. 

“No, I need you to want!” 

“How about an iced caramel frappe?! Nothing better?!” 

“And if you don’t want,” Paul yanked open the door, running outside and slamming it shut behind him as he sprinted through the office, needing to get some fresh air, not realising that his boss was still singing. “We’re through.” 

“Paul?” He looked around, trying to find where he went. “Paul?” 

With a deep breath, he cried out in song. 

 

“Pauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuul!”


End file.
